Removed
by indianpipe
Summary: After the death of Mr. Woodhouse, Emma is removed to London to visit with John and Isabella, while mourning the death of her father and trying to find herself she continues her friendship with Mr. Knightley through a series of letters.
1. Chapter 1

AN; Someone mentioned a writing challenge about Mr. Woodhouse dying. Here is my contribution.

The three hours were a blur; he could not remember seeing his usual landmarks and was not quite sure how he had arrived at the Abbey stable. He dismounted and handed Bessie off to the stable boy, not without forgetting to give special instructions for a proper treat to be added to the horse's water and hay. The boy smiled and acknowledged but then his countenance went suddenly sullen. The disarrangement of his features was so profound even Mr. Knightley, a man wholly focused on his mission, could not ignore without comment.

"Peter, what troubles you?"

"I am sorry for your loss, sir." The boy went red, unaccustomed, as he was, to speaking in such a grown up way.

"My loss?" Mr. Knightley, confused by his choice of words, thought it very strange to be calling the news of Frank Churchill's secret engagement with Jane Fairfax a loss, and so particularly his loss.

"Of course we expected you today…but not quite this early…was it a pony that brought you the news?"

"A pony?"

"Yes sir, I know they travel at night sometimes with missives…well for important people…such as yourself sir." The boy was looking very uncomfortable.

"What news is this?!"

"Why the death of Mr. Woodhouse…of course sir."

In a faraway voice Mr. Knightley repeated the phrase, "The death of Mr. Woodhouse."

The boy stared at him warily, remembering that his mother had told him that grief can make people go mad.

Knightley laid his hand upon Bessie, shaking himself from his former energy, the exertion he had in riding through the rainstorm this morning with the wish only to help make things right for Emma and to console her over the abominable actions of Mr. Churchill, had momentarily drained him, his face went white.

"Papa!" the boy yelled and ran into the stable. "Mr. Knightley is not well." But by the time little Peter had drawn his father away from the iron fire Mr. Knightley had remounted Bessie and was off in the direction of Hartfield.

Perry's horse was already there when he dismounted, and then he recognized Mr. Weston's footman. He saw Perry first in the hall.

Dr. Perry was a tall man, usually erect, so straight was his figure that it was his definable feature and many a family waited to see his silhouette on the landscape, hoping against hope that he could make things right, but today he was stooped, his shirtsleeves undone.

"Ahh George…so good of you to come so quickly, he put his hand upon Knightley's shoulder. A great friend you were to him…" The two men looked at each other with a quiet understanding passing between them about Mr. Woodhouse.

Mr. Knightley swallowed hard, not quite believing the situation to be real but knowing that one must say the right things.

"And you sir…a very steadfast and patient friend, indeed." This elicited a small smile from the worn looking country doctor.

"Emma is with Mrs. Weston inside…" he shook his head, "…this will not be easy…they were everything to each other…a little island, here." Perry motioned to their surroundings at Hartfield and Knightley was moved and impressed by how much the Doctor understood the situation.

Perry was making to leave and a pounding had started in Knightley's heart, he walked through the doorway into their room, a room the three had spent so many a happy and quiet evening in…talking and laughing, reminiscing…

She was alone, legs stretched out, reclined upon the sofa and hand drawn to mouth. He could see that she had been crying.

"Emma" He waited at the door, unsure if perhaps it wasn't time yet.

"Mr. Knightley" she made to get up but he crossed the room quickly and motioned for her to remain seated. He took up the seat on the sofa next to her.

"Dear Emma…I am so sorry." She shook her head yes both accepting and acknowledging his words.

She swayed a bit on her seat, "Mr. Knightley", she looked away from him when she spoke and her voice sounded not fully her own, "I feel so strange…it's as though I am here but I am not here."

Knightley turned to her, worried by her sound and without thinking, he stretched out his arms, she slowly gravitated towards him…putting her head on his shoulder and quietly weeping. Mrs. Weston came in with a tray, she motioned to the glass of water with her eyes and Mr. Knightley knew Perry must have instructed her to give Emma some sort of a sleeping draught. He slowly pulled Emma up from his shoulder.

"Dear Emma you must take some water…"

He looked deep into her eyes, she did not understand him. He took the glass from the tray and held it to her lips.

"Please drink this Emma…you have had a shock and you must sleep for a little while." His voice faltered on the last few words but he held her tight and with his body he willed her to obey. She took the glass slowly and drank… took it from her and within minutes Emma was sleeping, cradled in Mr. Knightley's arms.


	2. Only a Week

AN; Thank you for the reviews and encouragements.

The week that followed Mr. Woodhouse's death was a flurry of activity…Mr. Knightley thought, if Mr. Woodhouse himself had known how much would need to be done and prepared and how late into the evening everyone was staying up he never would have gone and died, he would have reasoned that the whole business was most ill advised for everyone's health. He formed a small smile and took a sip of sherry, the wine warmed him as well as the fire, Mrs. Weston had insisted that he dined at Randalls this evening on his way home from Hartfield and when he tried to protest that he would be on foot and that walking back to Donwell would be very dark she insisted he take their carriage home, at first he wanted to protest the extravagance but instead he acquiesced, he was softened by the thought of spending the evening alone at Donwell.

John, Isabella and the children had arrived late the day after Mr. Woodhouse died and after much work on legal papers, arrangements, notifications and one exhausting day and back trip to London with John , it was decided that the sisters, Isabella and Emma needed an evening alone together to sort through clothing, letters…and memories. Knightley thought of Emma and how she had initially taken the news, she had been so fragile in his arms the beginning of the week, lost almost to the present but as the days wore on and in almost the constant company of Mrs. Weston and then Isabella she had come round, enough so that on a few occasions when he was walking from room to room, working out all the arrangements and legalities of Hartfield with John he saw her going over a menu with Greta the cook, and helping to finalize a few plans for the funeral ceremony but in a moment when she did not know he was looking at her, he saw that her complexion was sallow and her dress hung a bit around the shoulders, her sleeves slipping past her wrists…she was not eating properly, he thought…he wanted to take her aside and chide her for it and if he was truthful with himself, which a glass of sherry and a good fire always made him do, he would like nothing more than for her to come back at him with some wit that would make him laugh or rather share a laugh but this seemed out of the question at present. Over the last few days they had been almost strangers to each other, he being so busy aiding his brother with the estate and tending to Donwell farms, now in the full swing of planting season but also from a feeling that she was avoiding him, not even looking in his direction at meals, almost as though his friendship would be just to painful right now…so he tried to oblige as best he could, getting lost in the details of death and running his farms…it was only this evening that he had truly let himself ruminate on the week.

It was just as he was settling in to an enjoyable evening, when he heard voices in the hallway; he looked to Mrs. Weston who was visibly puzzled over who could be dropping by, just at the supper hour. Before the voices reached the parlor Mr. Weston rose and announced that he had invited Mr. and Mrs. Elton to dine with them that evening. Knightley rose, drawing on every ounce of gentility he could muster, as that was what it would take to be social with the only two people in Highbury that he wished he did not have to call, friend. With only a few seconds before they entered Mrs. Weston gave him a heartfelt apologetic look and he quickly shook his head, conveying that it was no trouble and that he knew full well it had been Mr. Weston who had invited them on a whim, no doubt with the idea that somehow they would find comfort at this time to be in the company of the pastor and his wife. He bowed and sat and listened to the condolences. The evening past in streams of conversations but with Mrs. Elton faithfully bridging back to a poor Miss Woodhouse this or a poor Miss Woodhouse that, Knightley was not moved by her false sympathies but rather marked her behavior as a study. He found in his experience that the less someone likes you the more they are apt to feel sorry for you when you experience a loss or tragedy, to almost steal away your dignity. Knightley watched Mr. Elton as Mrs. Elton went on about how poor Emma would manage the estate by herself, how the servants may become unruly and how she worried for her and her lack of worldly experience, how it had been surely a shock to her that Frank Churchill had been secretly engaged to Jane Fairfax, about how money of course would be an issue and of course entitlement, by the end of the evening she had poor Miss Woodhouse alone, unmarried, living a lonely life, not unlike Miss Bates. All the while Knightley watched Mr. Elton and to his credit he did finally break in;

"My dear Augusta, surely Miss Woodhouse will be well taken care of by her family." Elton engaged a smile of agreement with the always amiable Mr. Weston carefully avoiding the gaze of both Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley, for even the gentle Mrs. Weston said, "And her close friends." In a tone just outside of her usual soft-spoken voice.

"Well of course she will." Mrs. Elton checked herself from proceeding further sensing that perhaps she had gone to far especially about Frank Churchill, which had even made Mr. Weston look uncomfortable.

Frank Churchill or rather the news of him and his secret engagement had been almost entirely eclipsed by Mr. Woodhouse's death. Mr. Knightley had wondered just how entangled Emma had become with him before hearing the news. He sighed heavily, it was to much to bear, to much for Dear Emma and he felt so frustrated that he could not do anything to make things right. As the Westons and Eltons talked of Mr. Woodhouse's eulogy Mr. Knightley was lost in the idea that these matters of the heart were far beyond his capabilities and that he would do well never to become entangled in such emotions, it seemed to bring only problems without solutions.

The evening ended early as for the morrow was the church service and eulogy for Mr. Woodhouse and all would follow to the cemetery. Early the next morning Mr. Knightley walked the well trodden path to Hartfield, the lilacs and the lily of the valley coated the path in perfume. He stopped and picked some for the children and Emma, hoping that it might brighten the morning, but he knew it was going to be a trying day, burial was always so finalizing, he remembered the death of his own mother and then quickly followed by good Mrs. Woodhouse, they were dark days, without escape from a heavy reality. A chill breezed through the air and he shook off those old memories and proceeded forth with a hope that at least his presence would not be a burden for Emma today.

He found her alone in the dining room helping herself to some tea, he almost exited in search of John but he pushed himself through the door, determined to be of some good use.

"Mr. Knightley I did not hear you come in." She sugared her tea as she always had and stirred it about as she always had but something was so different, Knightley just stared, not having the least notion of what to say or do.

"Have you something there?...behind your back?" Emma looked and smiled at his uncharacteristic shyness.

Knightley caught the warm expression on her face and a palpable relief settled over his limbs that the forgotten bouquet almost slipped from his hand.

"Oh…Oh..yes of course..these are for the children." He presented them to her and she unknowingly blushed.

"They will be delighted. I love how Donwell path looks at this time of year; it is a pity to miss it." She sighed.

"Well perhaps later, before supper we will venture out with the children….I am sure they will be in need of a stretch by then…of course…if you wish." He bowed his head in deference to her, not wanting to expect too much, but so hopeful that she was feeling somewhat better.

"I would like that very much but I fear that well wishers and guests might prevent me from coming as well." She smiled resolutely.

"Well the children and I will have to rescue you, for there is nothing as fearful as a well wisher." He took a chance that she would rally to a little amusement.

Her eyes locked with his and for a few moments they were there, as they had always been, friends. Mr. Knightley smiled broadly disbelieving at how much he had missed her in only a week's time; they stood enjoying that easy relationship that had developed over many years.

In a hushed, conspiratorial tone Emma instructed, "When you come to rescue me do send the children in, they are always more convincing." They laughed quietly only interrupted by little Hannah coming in looking very sad and upset. Emma knelt down to her,

"What is wrong little one?"

"I can not find grandfather and when I asked Henry he said that I would not see him again until I was an old old woman." She burst into tears. Emma gently rubbed her back and then without a word Mr. Knightley knelt down and picked the child up into his arms and produced the bouquet for her."

"I have brought these for you Hannah so that you would see what Grandfather helps God in heaven do every day now…you see he helps God make all these flowers."

"Grandfather is in Heaven?"

"Yes Dear Hannah." She rested her head on Mr. Knightley's shoulder and with a small finger tapped the lily of the valley as if it were a bell. He walked towards the library with the child suspecting that they would find Isabella there with the other children.

Emma watched the two and could not help but remember how Mr. Knightley had been when her own mother had died, he had really changed very little over the years and when she thought on it, as she was now, she could still see the tall, slim teenager that had always been at once her fiercest opponent and her most stalwart protector. She smiled at the image and for the first time in a week had felt some degree of energy and even happiness.


	3. Ashamed, times three

Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews.

Ashamed, times three

It seemed that all of Highbury had turned out for Mr. Woodhouse's funeral…there were of course those that he called his intimate friends but there were many others and from all stations in life. Mr. Knightley was reminded of the Woodhouse's generosity over the years. He thought of how Mr. Woodhouse had visited the village more often when he had been younger, and was always interested in the young people and how they were getting on. Many of his own tenants attended the service, having been the recipient of either Mr. Woodhouse's kindness or as a benefit of Emma's parish visits to their homes. He shook his head, mentally taking himself to task for being, now he considered while amongst all these appreciative people, a little to hard on Emma when he was often lecturing her on being more aware of other people's hardships…the recent incident with Mrs. Bates, he was thinking in particular, he had known immediately the morning he had bid them farewell before leaving for London that he had been unnecessarily harsh…he looked about and saw two families just that morning on his walk to the village had been recounting on more than one occasion Emma showing up at their doorstep with bread and cheese and meats when one or the other of the family had been ill or hurt and that she never forgot the children at Christmas and always seemed to know exactly who needed a new muffler or who had outgrown the last pair of mittens she had knitted, with each remembrance he grew a little more ashamed of his behavior. He was in the midst of these thoughts when a hush came over the parish for who should enter and take a seat in the back but Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax…

Knightley turned his head to gauge Mr. and Mrs. Weston's reaction and could see they knew nothing of the pair coming today. He looked back in front and saw Isabella whispering quietly to John, who had spied them enter, but Emma looked wholly oblivious to the awkward situation and Knightley was glad for at least that, she shouldn't have that to contend with as well. He muttered his thoughts under his breath,

"Bad form indeed." John glanced back at him and not sure what the other was exactly thinking on the situation, they nodded in a brotherly agreement on the comportment of Frank Churchill.

The Ceremony proceeded and although not an intimate friend of Mr. Woodhouse Elton did a fair enough job of giving the man his due. George and John excused themselves from the ladies at that time and went round the outside of the church where they, Mr. Weston and Dr. Perry had assembled to fulfill their pallbearer duties, once the group had filed out the side door of the parish they commenced to lift the weight of Mr. Woodhouse and ascend to the Highbury Hill cemetery. Emma, Isabella and Mrs. Weston were attended by Mr. Elton, Mr. Otway and Mr. Cole. The day had turned warmer and Emma thought that her Father would have approved of taking a turn after Church on such a mild morning. Mr. Elton walked in silence beside her, she sensed, ready to lend a hand if she were to give out.

"Mr. Elton, you did my father justice today…and I thank you for that." She spoke from the heart and Elton looked to her gratefully.

"He was a very kind man." He added.

And with this small interchange, they left their old grievances at the bottom of the hill. Mr. Elton bowed to her and excused himself to take his place at the front of the group. Emma turned just to see the men gently settle the wooden coffin down to the ground, it was not until this moment, that she had shed a tear but she could feel her eyes well…she would miss him so much but it was more than just missing him, it was a sense that he had somehow not really lived his life as fully as he could have, somewhere getting lost in a sea of fear. Mrs. Weston took her arm up and Isabella came round to the other side and they held her firmly between them, she thought if they had not done this she would have floated away…so strange this feeling that kept resurfacing on her…

George and John came again to stand with the Family. Knightley took up a post just behind Emma not liking the look of her complexion at all, the black dress and pelisse he knew were drab but truly she looked ill…he heard not what Elton said and was only alerted at the last second when he saw John once again leave Isabella's side that he had to go and finish his duty of lowering the casket. As he hoisted up the left side with Mr. Weston he wished that the ladies could be taken away somewhere for this…it was a part of the ritual he never thought did anyone any good.

When they had finished they were to line up in front of the Church for everyone to pay their respects, on descending the hill Knightley walked to Emma's side,

"Dear Emma, let me help you." It was less of a request as it was a need for both of them and she took up his arm readily.

"I am glad that you are here with me Mr. Knightley…it is a strange feeling and just at this moment I do not trust myself to know really what to do…or even say. I am very foolish am I not?" she could not muster even a smile.

"No…I will stay with you." He tucked her arm tighter in his and covered her hand with his own. They made their way down to the Church and stood together next to John and Isabella with the children intermingled between them. They thanked and spoke with everyone that had come to pay their respects and just towards the end Frank Churchill and Jane Farifax came forward. Knightley held his words to himself but just barely… Emma was warm and gracious and thanked them for coming and wished them very happy…Knightley for the second time today was ashamed at himself for his behavior towards Emma in the past; she truly was everything he always eluded that she was not.

It was decided that Isabella and John would walk back with the children as they were in need of some exercise and distraction. Mr. Knightley immediately offered to take Emma back to Hartfield thinking that she did not want to walk.

She did not respond but just walked with him and allowed him to lift her into the carriage. Once in and on their way back she looked to him, feeling somewhat restored and said, "and so our Mr. Churchill seemed very happy today."

Knightley was not sure how she meant the sentiment but he could hold his feelings in about the situation no longer. "Abominable behavior…I am sorry Emma that he had to behave in such a way towards you at this time…and his presence today…" he choked on the disgust.

Emma, shocked by his passion, sat up in her seat, "Mr. Knightley I must set you straight on this…Frank Churchill has not injured me…I know that we have not had time to discuss the news but he has used us all ill equally…I was not in danger." It took some time for the words to penetrate Knightley but finally he calmed.

"I was not sure of your entanglement?" he admitted quietly, not yet truly believing that she was fine.

She took her hat off and placed it next to her, the day had turned very warm and the black garb was becoming exceedingly uncomfortable. She took a little breath and admitted, "I have to admit I was flattered by his intentions…she looked away out the window, "…but I found, after some little time that I was not in danger.." she looked back to him, wondering what his reaction would be.

"Well Emma…I am glad to hear it…I feel sorry for Jane though, she deserved better." Knightley said the first thing that came into his head and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible while on the inside he had felt elated and relieved that Emma never really cared for Churchill and that she did not have to bear this loss as well as the death of her father.

Emma sat back relieved that Mr. Knightley had taken the news well and did not feel as though he needed to revisit her behavior and scold her, she did not think she could stand him being upset with her just now… and without thinking she said as much…;

"I'm glad you are not angry with me."

Mr. Knightley looked to her with a knitted brow. "Angry with you…, Emma?" he queried.

She shrugged, "I…I have forgotten now…but I'm sure I must have done something.?" She laughed a little out of truth and a little out of exhaustion. Mr. Knightley joined her and they both chuckled. He looked on her with warmth but then was reminded at how poorly she had seemed earlier in the day.

"If you must be scolded then let us say it will be for not eating and sleeping properly…really Emma, you must rest and eat today…I will not hear any arguments." Knightley had all but forgotten his previous promise to himself to stop scolding Emma and fell into his usual habit.

"You see I knew there must be something." She smiled, but thought how she would miss this back and forth they had if he were to marry. She had not had time to think until today about Harriet's confession that she was in love with Mr. Knightley and that she believed he returned her affections.

They arrived at Hartfield and Mr. Knightley escorted her in, trying to lead her to the dining room where he knew the cook had laid out food for the family and any guests.

She turned in the hallway and took his hands, her eyes were bright and he had not been this close to her in a long while. "I can't go in their now…please, can you tell everyone I am resting for a while?" she pleaded.

"Of course…" he bowed his head to her and then she was gone.

He did not see her the rest of the evening and when all the guests were gone and the children were in bed John and Isabella informed Knightley that they had a matter to discuss with him in the parlor.

"George…we think that Emma should come with us to London for some time…we are very worried for her…she seems not to be able to function here at the present…"

"Leave here…?" Knightley did not know what to make of it.

"We know we would be asking a lot of you George…for someone will have to look after Hartfield. We think, for her to be with Isabella and the children will be a good distraction and that in time she will be ready to come back…" John explained.

Before Mr. Knightley could comment Isabella worriedly added, "And even then it will be so lonely…without a husband or children."

Knightley swallowed hard and could not get hold of his thoughts, he felt something he didn't even really have was slipping away.

John commented, "Perhaps, she will meet someone suitable in London, through my club even…Emma is after all very pretty and intelligent…no… the more I think on this I know it is the right course of action." John concluded.

Mr. Knightley could hardly believe his ears, the usually good and kind Isabella and John were sounding like Mr. and Mrs. Elton…planning Emma's life out without even consulting her.

"Perhaps you should consult Emma before you finalize any plans?" Knightley suggested.

"We did mention her coming yesterday and she did not seem opposed." Isabella informed him.

Knightley shook his head thinking, of course she was not opposed she does not even know what she is about today…she needs time that is all.

"You do think it is the right thing, don't you George?" Isabella asked worriedly.

Knightley looked at Isabella and could not deny her, they were sisters after all and their father had just died…he supposed that he could not raise an objection. For the last and he hoped the final time today he was ashamed of himself, knowing truly that his objection for her leaving was more for his own well being than for hers.


	4. Immersion

AN; Thanks for all the great feedback and reviews.

"_**More than kisses, letters mingle souls." John Donne**_

In a few short days John and Isabella ironed out all the details with Mr. Knightley as to Emma leaving Hartfield for an extended stay in London at their house.

"Now George if this all becomes to much you must write to us and let me know…I know you are always quietly capable of everything but the running of two estates and overseeing the farms will certainly keep you more than busy…" John looked and spoke earnestly.

Knightley only shook his head; words had been failing him over the past few days. He watched as the two maids put some white sheeting over his favorite chair near the fireplace. Emma came in just then;

"Oh no…please that one must have the covers off." She instructed the maids. She turned to face him and with a smile he had not seen since the ball at the Crown she spoke to him,

"After all, you will have to have somewhere to sit…" and with this she laughed mischievously, "…just think Mr. Knightley you will have peace and tranquility on your visits to Hartfield now, no bothersome creatures to contradict you or poor manners you must correct."

"Hmmm…" an affirmative mumble was his only reply as he watched her move about the room. John went to fetch Isabella with some sort of instruction on packing when Knightley saw his chance to speak with Emma alone.

"Emma, are you entirely sure that this is what you want…to go to London…to leave Highbury…just now?"

She looked thoughtful, "To be honest I don't know what I want? On one day I can't bear this house…these rooms and then there are hours that I want to stay here in this parlor, as we use to, you, I and father; warming ourselves by the fire, catching up on news…but it can't be that way anymore…can it?" Emma looked to him with a doleful expression.

Knightley felt sure now, that by her tone, Emma saw him first as a friend to her father and then as a friend or brother figure…he was surprised at how the reality squeezed his chest, he was having trouble taking each breath.

"No, I suppose not." He managed to vocalize.

Emma was now almost positive he returned Harriet's affections, she was beautiful and the Knightley's were easily wealthy enough for him to marry whoever he chose, and surely, if she stayed he could not come and sit with her by her fire and laugh and chat and tease…it would be inappropriate…she had quite enough of hurting others feelings by being to attentive to their prospective husband, it was only now that she and Jane Fairfax had finally decided to correspond.

"Well I suppose then it is settled Mr. Knightley…I must go with John and Isabella, it will no doubt do me good, I will become so cultured, so worldly, so refined that by the time I return to Hartfield you will hardly know me?" she could not help bait him just once before they left.

"How could I recognize you with your head 5 times the size it normally is?" He laughed and so did she and to Mr. Knightley it was a sound he would have to capture and store for later review, for the thought of sitting in this parlor alone going over ledgers, without that sound, was a lonely prospect to be sure.

In another day's time they were gone, Emma removed, supposedly to distract her from sadness and grief but in Mr. Knightley's opinion sadness and grief had a way of finding you with a vengeance if you tried to hide.

He immersed himself in work, the farms needed repairs, livestock had to be checked, rents were due, Donwell and Hartfield needed tending and some repairs as well. He made a list every evening, planned and dutifully checked each item off that evening. All the walking to and from Hartfield was tiring but they were enjoying a bout of excellent weather so the journey was not so much of a hardship one or two times a day. It was into the third week of their departure for London that he received a letter from the family. He was delighted when he opened it to see Emma was actually the author.

Dear Mr. Knightley,

Let me explain from the beginning, I have been elected, in a most undemocratic way, to write to you on all that is happening here in London. We arrived safely on the 14th, all 8 of us, this statement may underscore how our travel was from Hartfield to London…._Knightley laughed and settled further into his chair_…I am not quite sure how Isabella manages this for I seem to be hopelessly inept, by the time I have gotten the correct pace of walking out on the busy streets we have turned and started to go in a different direction, more than once little Henry has had to retrieve me from another street…_He smiled and put his feet up on the ottoman, he was at Donwell and so allowed himself a fire that evening, the days were warm but the nights still turned cold_…the days move so quickly…there is getting the children up and ready, then lessons for the older ones, meals, naps, playing, walks, reading; then there are the social functions in the evening; parties, balls, dinner invitations…we are out almost every evening…I must admit that John and Isabella were right about the distraction. I just hope that I don't embarrass them in front of their friend. I am ashamed to say, I who thought Mr. Martin's behavior clownish, which was very bad indeed, have a feeling that is the way some of the ladies look at me here in London. …_Knightley shook his head in disagreement_…I have not made many friends…just one, you would like her, she is always reading. Her name is Catherine and she is the daughter of one of John's older friends from his club. She is not like the other young women here, she doesn't take an interest in 'finding a husband', or shopping for new dresses although she is very pretty and would look splendid in some of the London fashions. I think her beauty is not quite so traditional, she likes to take walks in nature and collect things like butterflies, flowers for pressing, I told her she would love Highbury. I hope her father will allow her to visit us sometime, the few times I have met him he seemed disappointed in almost everything she said and did, kind of sad, especially when I think on my father; I have this image of him almost always being delighted with everything I did… except perhaps, Box Hill but in my memory I shall blame that on you Mr. Knightley for you had started the whole idea in my head, …but of course my behavior that day I will only blame on myself. I never told you but you were right to scold me that day I was being selfish and cruel towards Miss Bates, at least now she can rest easy that Jane is well situated. Perhaps, while I am here in London I can learn to be a better person. _Knightley placed the letter to his chest and closed his eyes, feeling his heart fill with so many emotions. It was a while before he resumed reading; _

On Saturday we will go to the Opera. I am very excited. We will be sitting with The Wright's, Catherine's family, in their box, we are to see The Marriage of Figaro, it should be quite interesting, I believe Catherine's brother William will be there whom she has talked much of, he also, through comments made by Mr. Wright , seems to be a disappointment but not so much as Catherine. William is a doctor here in London, a profession, which I think is more the disappointment, considered beneath the Wright's situation and station. I believe this is tempered somewhat with his success, Catherine says that he is helping to break new ground in surgery…I understand to some degree this notion of one's place in society but I am also realizing that living without some real purpose; no business, no children, no profession seems to thwart and frustrate people. For look at you Mr. Knightley, you take such pleasure in managing Donwell and all your tenants, you are always here and there, helping and planning with our community, and you are rarely in ill health or spirit. I think not all men of wealth and property take such an active interest in their affairs, from what I see of Mr. Wright, everything is managed by some one else and so because he does not actually endeavor, which comes always with a chance to be wrong, he feels very superior. _Knightley nodded in agreement with her theory._

Now, while I am on the subject of work I must ask you, and you must promise to reply honestly, is it to much for you to be managing both Donwell and Hartfield? For if you are growing fatigued I will come back, I only await your word.

_Knightley looked into the fire, how very much he would like to dash off a note that it was entirely too much, that she should come back immediately… but for what? To entertain him in the evening? As she had stated the day she left that would be considered inappropriate now that Mr. Woodhouse was gone. He rose and put his arm up to the mantle, steadying himself, for the truth was making him feel weak; he wanted her to come back but not as his family friend. He wanted her to come back to him and for him, he was in love with her and he wanted to marry his Dear Emma. He must think on this…what would the family think, she is young, but not so much so…and what of her?, she was just starting her adult life and now without her father to worry over her traveling she could begin to explore the world, make friends…and besides she always said she would never marry…he must quell these desires, perhaps, he thought, it was just a bit of loneliness. _


	5. Forgetmenot

Forget-me-not

AN: Thank you very much for the reviews.

He knew he had to reply but he gave himself a day, a day to depart from Donwell, Hartfield and the farms and all the thoughts that filled those places. He headed into town, there were a few parish matters he had to attend to and on his way he saw Miss Bates in the village square. He stopped his horse and tipped his hat to her.

"Oh Mr. Knightley, how are you? I can see that you are well but really sir you have not stopped I think since Miss Woodhouse has left. I have heard accounts of you everywhere and I daresay always on foot. You will wear yourself out at this rate I fear."

"I am fine I assure you Miss Bates, exercise is always good for me."

"Oh true, true. I was just saying to mother yesterday how well I feel when I have had my early walk to check the post. I have been there this morning already, oh yes. And I should tell you that I have had a letter from Jane, now isn't she dutiful, why she is just settled into her new home and can still find the time to write. Oh they are so in love Mr. Knightley and to think none of us new but I suppose they did not want to risk it…no I daresay, but as my father would say nothing ventured, nothing gained and so they are very happy indeed. It is hard for young people in love do you not think Mr. Knightley? They are so often thwarted by family and situation…" she stopped to take a breath and smiled up on Mr. Knightley who was listening attentively on his horse.

"In some cases…yes I would agree." He nodded.

"Well it has worked out for Jane and Frank, they have promised me to come at Christmas and mother and I are delighted! Oh to have a house full of people at that time is always a pleasure is it not Mr. Knightley?"

"To be sure." He made to ride on after a little parting bow.

"I see that you must be pressing on Mr. Knightley but I just wanted to enquire after Miss Woodhouse, is she feeling better, is she enjoying her stay in London? We must not let her stay too long; she will not want to come back to our little village here." She smiled.

"Yes I think she is enjoying it and in her last letter she is sounding much better. As far as the length of her stay only she can determine that." Knightley finished sounding more resolute than he realized.

Miss Bate's smile weakened just at the corners, "wonderful to hear that she is feeling better."

"Yes, good day Miss Bates." Mr. Knightley rode on trying to believe that he really did want it to be Emma's decision to come home.

In the evening he took his meal in the study at Donwell and at his desk, after setting his tray aside, he took up ink and paper for a reply;

Dear Family,

I am happy to hear that you are all ensconced in London. Emma has relayed to me accounts of events and friends, it sounds that the change is doing everyone some good. _He crumpled the first attempt, feeling at a disadvantage to have to address everything he said to the entire family, whereas Emma could write as she pleased to her audience of one, himself. He thought on this for a moment and came up with an acceptable way round to writing to her personally, he would enclose a note to Emma containing pertinent business of Hartfield that she would want to be kept informed of while she was away. He knew that Isabella was not likely to look at it and probably would assume that Emma would inform herself and John if anything important happened that they should know about. So with this he started again, in about 20 minutes he had completed an acceptable family letter, including all the news of Highbury to suit Isabella and John; The Weston's baby was due in January and she was enjoying excellent health, Dr. Perry had bought a carriage with some money that Mr. Woodhouse had left him in his will and the Parish committee had decided to donate money to build a new school for all the village children. With this business finished he could write a more personal letter to Emma._

Dear Emma,

As you have read in the family letter I am writing to you about any business related to Hartfield that you will like to stay informed upon. I must begin by thanking you for your well written letter of the 19th, I am happy that you are meeting new people and taking in new sites. The Opera I hope will be a thrilling evening for you. I remember when I first went with an Aunt to Covent Garden, it was a pantomime and John and I were fascinated by the acrobats and harlequins, we were small boys and the place was huge, it was before the fire of 08 and looked quite different than it does now. I must remember to show you a book from Donwell Library that has a sketch of the old configuration. I have heard that the stage lights are gas now and illuminate the players in a most theatrical way. I have not been in several years, it is lucky that you will be in a box with the Wrights, I think that I met them once when John took me to his club, I don't remember the son but I believe I did meet Miss Wright and her mother at a luncheon in London, they seemed very pleasant women as for Mr. Wright I did notice that he had rather a dark view on almost every subject we touched on. Your observation on the matter was astute, idleness does seem to breed that nature I have seen it on more that one occasion with my contemporaries and alumni.

Hartfield is in full bloom, the sunflowers and heather is glorious, Stevens is doing a fair job of overseeing the gardens in your absence but I believe when I was speaking to him yesterday he let slip that he had not realized how much tending Miss Emma had done and that it was a credit to her that the garden looked as pleasing as it did in every season. I pass the compliment on to you respectfully. Greta, your faithful cook, has decided that I am far to thin and offers me biscuits and sweets at every opportunity, I am running out of excuses, just yesterday I managed to dodge her by stepping out the side door to the garden path, really Emma she is very persistent but also has a very sweet nature and I do not wish to offend but if I eat everything she makes for me it will be I that you do not recognize when you return for I will be 5 times my size. _He knew she would smile at this and could, if he imagined hard enough, see her expression._

I hired a few of my tenants to come round and patch the north wall as it was damaged by that storm in late spring when the sycamore blew down, they should be completing the work on the 23rd if all goes well.

I met Miss Bates yesterday in the village and she told me she had a letter from Jane; they are doing well and will be back in Highbury for Christmas. She also asked particularly about your health and happiness and I assured her that you were feeling well and enjoying your stay in London. She was very relieved to hear the news; she counts you as one of her closest friends. I believe when you are a good person at your very center small inconsistencies in temperament are afforded by those that know intimately your true nature. For instance, with your Mr. Wright, you are realizing his true nature and so his cynicism and misplaced disappointment are, in your opinion, unpardonable, but if he had a warm and generous spirit in general but occasionally diverted from this and corrected his wife or children, perhaps rather too harshly, he could be forgiven. _Mr. Knightley wanted to go on and say that he thought she was the very best kind of person and that removing to London could not make her any better, but he knew such effusiveness was inappropriate and could only hope that Emma would read between the lines down to his feelings._

As you see Hartfield is running smoothly, thanks to your father's excellent choice of help and, as I am finding out, your excellent organization of the household. _He had always assisted Mr. Woodhouse with certain details of business concerning the running of the estate, especially in the more recent years but he had never been privy to the actual details of running the household and he was finding more and more, while speaking with the servants, that Emma truly had a knack for organization. _

In closing, I hope that you have a wonderful time at the Opera and continue to further your education. Your new friend, Miss Wright, seems an excellent match for you Emma. I am glad to hear you are making new friends. I saw your old friend Harriet Smith at the Parish just yesterday, she and I spoke of you for a while and she sends her regards, she promises to write soon but confessed that she does not have a way with words. She is staying with the Martin's for a few weeks over the summer again and I offered her to come and picnic on the grounds of Donwell with the Martins whenever the weather was fine. _Truly, Mr. Knightley was hoping that Harriet and Mr. Martin would become reacquainted, perhaps even on a picnic at Donwell and that he could help him gain what he was realizing more fully each day must have been a terrible loss. He sat back in his chair, resting his head for a moment when a grin broke the down turned lines of his mouth. He thought that surely Emma will tease him for trying to do some matchmaking of his own. He shook his head at what her reply would be and then sealed the letter with wax and put it at the top of a pile of correspondence he had been working on._

Sincerely,

George Knightley

The weeks that followed brought on the true hot weather of late August and September and on one particular balmy evening Mr. Knightley had opened the great French doors in the library at Donwell and placed his chair almost outside, it had been a long and very tedious day going over accounts and prospects for the impending harvest, he loosened his cravat and hung his outer coat over the nearby desk chair, helped himself to a glass of sherry and settled down to read a letter from London.

Dear Mr. Knightley,

There is no excuse for my taking so long to reply I can only say that when one child comes down with an illness it spreads through the household in the blink of an eye. Isabella, the maids and I have been on almost constant nursing duty. _Mr. Knightley sat straighter in his chair, furrowing his brow over the possibility that one of his little nieces or nephews might be seriously ill._

Summer colds seem to be the very worst kind, they linger on for weeks. All the children seem to be on the mend now but little Henry took it the hardest and even had difficulty catching his breath one night. Isabella's regular doctor, Crammer, was nowhere to be found but luckily Catherine Wright's brother was on hand, he is a doctor in London, I believe I mentioned him in my last letter. He knew just the correct herb to add to his tea and his wheeze and hard breathing cleared very quickly. We were all very grateful that he had been dining with us that evening_. Mr. Knightley gave a sigh of relief to hear that all the children were feeling better._

The Wrights, Catherine and William have been hear at Brunswick square much during my visit, I think they wish to escape the wrath of their father. Catherine and I have started a small endeavor of making bandages and knitting some needed items for one of the hospitals that her brother is in attendance. He sits at two, one of a kind for ladies and gentleman like us and one for the poor. One evening he told us of the need for basic supplies at the latter and the next day both Catherine and I had the same idea. I must tell you Mr. Knightley that although I love a ball and am attracted by the latest fashions a steady diet of such pleasures is to rich for me. I have of late been missing my garden and duties at Hartfield and your letter, to which I now reply, made me just a bit homesick for Highbury. _Mr. Knightley smiled at this admission but it was, he knew, a guilty pleasure. _I am afraid I must have been wearing my heart to much on my sleeve because Mr. Wright inquired if I didn't need a change of scenery and asked me to tour the museums with him, and his sister of course, at the end of the week. "_Hmmm…" mumbled aloud. _

I am pleased that Miss Bates, Jane and Frank Churchill are doing so well. Perhaps, we will be all home in Highbury for Christmas and everyone can come to Hartfield. It will be so strange without father_. Mr. Knightley acknowledged this with a nod of his head and remembered back to his own first Christmas without his mother, there was still laughter and joy but somehow it did not resonate with the same force, after she was gone it was just he, John and father and they would grow far too serious at times. He remembered how his mother had a way of teasing them out of their bad temper._

Thank you too for the news of Harriet; it was kind of you to offer them to picnic on the grounds. Do you often see and speak with Harriet_? Mr. Knightley drew his brows together at this question thinking it was rather odd. He had been sure Emma would have seen through to his motive. Perhaps she sees it as impossibility now?_

Mr. Knightley in many ways you have been a better friend to Harriet than I have. I am seeing my conduct from a distance and know that it was not what it should have been. You tried to warn me but I continued my relationship with Harriet which now I see was all one sided in my own mind at the time. I gave nothing to the friendship and only caused pain and heartache. I think to be able to give yourself to other people you must know your own self first. I look around and see examples of this every day; my dear sister Isabella seems to have always known herself and she is a perfect wife and mother, John, so content with his happy family and work, although perhaps a bit critical at times, knows what he wants, Mr. William Wright, very focused on his career and field of study seems very happy and you, of course Mr. Knightley, always in good spirits and content with your life…it seems only Catherine and I are removed from this troupe, not that we are not jovial and enjoy life, but I suppose we are not settled. _Mr. Knightley let his arm fall that was holding the letter, he thought on what Emma had stated, was he really content with everything in his life? He looked up to the clear night sky, the stars, so distinct in their positions, marker points for something important, more important than himself. Her thoughts and words washed over him and he felt small and apart from his usual world._

I must close with something lighthearted now, this is all growing to serious. I have not spoken of the Opera as of yet. It was a magical evening, as you said the gas lights put such an effect on the actors and the singing was truly thrilling, but the true drama occurred during the intermission. Mr. William Wright escorted Catherine and me out to the grand lobby for some refreshments, with the other members of both families behind us. Mr. Wright went to fetch drinks while I tried not to be in awe of the architecture and grand chandelier in the center of the room. _Mr. Knightley smiled._ Catherine was explaining some history about the theater to me when a mature woman and two young ladies approached us. Catherine made the introductions. The name was Bates, yes Bates. She evidently was a cousin of our Miss Bates of Highbury. When I inquired the woman acknowledged with almost a sneer and it was made most clear that I should not continue my inquiry further. The two daughters, one named Charlotte and the other Hannah were both very pretty, small with dark hair and very finely dressed but their expressions were very disapproving, but Mr. Knightley you will be proud of me I forged forward not making a quick first impression. I truly tried every line of conversation but seemed to be in the wrong on every subject. This went on until William came over with the refreshments. He greeted the three warmly and spoke a bit more particular to Charlotte. Her expression changed immediately, she spoke warmly and softly, interjecting all kinds of questions about his studying, it was astounding…like two different people. _Knightley nodded his head, he knew this type of woman_. I chanced a glance at Catherine and she responded with a knowing smile in return. This must not have been Charlottes only performance. Mr. Wright spoke with her for a few minutes and then turned to me to inquire after the punch, how I enjoyed the opera the actors… and before we knew it Charlotte, who had been fine just a moment ago fainted away to the floor! Oh Mr. Knightely the drama, she was only missing the gas lamps. _He laughed out loud…and it resonated on the night air._ Well, good and kind Mr. Wright knelt to her service, patted her hand, and checked her pulse but only when it was decided that they should return home did she fully come round with her cheeks just as rosy as before. I know that you will be mentally scolding me for not being more generous but perhaps I could sidestep this offence if I give Charlotte the title of best actress of the evening_. Knightley shook his head at her impertinence but could not stop laughing._ I hope that I should never stoop to such tactics; it makes all women look bad. _You, Dear Emma, will never have to…_

Then poor Mr. Wright had to forgo the rest of the opera and convey the three ladies home to be sure that Charlotte did not have a relapse. _Knightley thought he detected a note of jealousy, which he knew Emma, on occasion, had an inclination towards._

We went back to the Wright's box with the rest of the family and enjoyed the Opera. It was truly beautiful and not really spoilt too much by the circumstances._ "Good girl, Emma." He whispered as he carefully folded the letter, fingering the wax seal, it was embellished with a forget-me-not flower, delicately floating inside the crude red wax._


End file.
